A stupid bet (FRUK)
by ProudmemberofLoki'sarmy
Summary: France gets England drunk and Arthur makes a deal he may regret later... Rubbish summary, but read it anyway. FRUK! T because of language.
1. Chapter 1

"Angleterre! If you are free, would you like to go for a drink?"

England turned to France.

"Alright, but I won't have anything too strong, you know how I get when I'm drunk."

France pretended to pout.

"Eet is a shame. You are so fun when you are drunk, mon ami."

Later, at the pub, England sat next to France at the bar, drinking his one pint of beer. France had a very complicated cocktail and had just ordered a shot glass of vodka.

"So, how was your week England?"

"Awful. Thank God we have a week off, Alfred was driving me crazy last week."

"Reeeally?" France replied. He knew England could never resist the chance to have a nice long rant about America. As England launched into a furious tirade, he lent forward and surreptitiously poured the contents of the shot glass into England's beer. Hiding a smirk, he lent back and prepared to watch the fun.

"...and he's a complete moron, it's a wonder he's still alive, one of these days I'm going to..." England paused to take a sip of his drink (not noticing the change in taste) and continued. "...absolutely no respect, he'll get on the wrong side of a powerful country one of these days..."

A while later, France looked over at the tipsy country sitting next to him.

"Are you in the mood for a leetle drinking competition Arthur?"

England frowned.

"I meant it when I said I was only having one pint, Francis."

France huffed.

"Maybe you are afraid that I could out-drink you."

England raised himself onto France's level.

"Hah! I'm the mighty British Empire. I could beat you in any contest!"

"Prove eet."

"Fine!"

France smiled.

"If you are so confident, then how about we bet on it? How about... the loser has to be the winner's servant for the next week - and do whatever the winner wants - starting on Monday. There aren't any meetings scheduled then, anyway."

England hesitated. His common sense screamed to him that this was an awful idea, but his pride (and the spiked beer) spurred him to speak.

"Deal!"

The two countries shook hands and ordered their first round of drinks.

As the evening went on, both countries became more and more intoxicated. By the time they reached their fifth round, England was swaying dangerously on his stool and France was just giggling at nothing. England put his glass down.

"You won't beat me, f-frog! Another one h-here."

France knocked back his drink.

"You are soooo pretty, Angleterre. I need another... one, too."

"Y-you can't beat the great... great..."

England paused.

"Who am I again?"

France thought about it.

"The great person, who wears green?"

England frowned.

"No, it's not that... another one please."

France waved his finger in an attempt to indicate that he too would like another drink. The barman got the idea and put another drink down (it was lucky England often went down there for a quiet drink and had a tab open).

France took a long drink before putting his glass back down, then watched England do the same. France raised a hand in front of his face. He could still see the basic shape of it, so he decided he was fine and drained his glass. He turned around to England in time to see him finish his drink... and collapse backwards off the bar stool.

"Ha! Sir France 'as triumphed!" exclaimed France. He waved a finger in England's general direction.

"You start work on Monday."

On Monday morning, England stood on the steps in front of France's house, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

What a humiliating experience he thought to himself.

_Stupid bet. Stupid frog. Stupid me._

He cringed as he thought back to the events of the night before. He didn't dwell on the painful memory for long, though, as France opened the door and looked at him with a smug look on his face.

"Oh good, you are 'ere" he smirked.

"Do I have to sleep here? I brought some things in case." England muttered.

France laughed.

"But of course! How else will you cook me breakfast in the morning? Though, that may not be the best idea now that I think about eet."

France laughed again.

"Please, come in."

With a feeling of resignation England stepped through the door.

France walked through another doorway and waved a hand, indicating that England should follow.

"Please, sit." He said as England entered the room. When they were both seated, he looked over at England's rather red face and smirked in an annoying way.

"Well, while I 'ave never managed to conquer you, Angleterre, at least you have to do what I say for the week."

England turned a deeper shade of red.

"All right, there's no need to rub it in, you git."

France wagged a finger at him.

"Non non, you are not allowed to insult me. You have to do everything I say or break your promise, and Englishmen don't do that, do zey Arthur?"

England gave him an angry look but said nothing.

"That is better. Now, let me show you where you'll be sleeping. For now, anyway. I have a spare guest room upstairs."

England tried not to think about where he would have slept in the absence of a spare room, but failed.

England climbed the stairs. They were, he realised, the exact same colour as France's hair. When he reached the room, France showed him where he could keep his things and where the bathroom was.

"After you have settled in, go back downstairs and make me a cup of tea." France ordered. Then he left the room.

A short while later, England walked down into the kitchen. He put the kettle on, found the tea and began searching through the cupboards for the cups. He finally located them, but as he bent down to the lowest cupboard to reach them he heard a voice behind him.

"Why 'ello."

England straightened up so fast he almost smacked his head on the counter. He turned to see France right there.

"It ees a shame, I was enjoying the view." France practically purred, before reaching over and squeezing England's butt. England pushed him away very fast and retreated to the other side of the kitchen in a flurry of embarrassment.

"You- you-"

France winked at him.

"You do 'ave a nice ass-"

He ducked to avoid the cup England threw at him and it smashed on the wall behind him. France straightened up, tutting.

"You can clear zat up, and then I will have to theenk of a punishment." He said. England was very irritated to see that he was still smirking. Thankfully, he then left. England cleared up the broken shards and started making tea in another mug. His mind was churning angrily and he felt more than a little embarrassed. He resolved to punch France as soon as the week ended. Yes, he could take necessary revenge when he was free. Meanwhile, he could plot exactly how he would screw things up for that bloody git after his hours of servitude.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I've never had so many emails from before. Thanks to everyone who favourited, followed and reviewed! **

**I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers**

He carried the cup of tea into the lounge. France was lying on the sofa and reading a book, but looked up when England entered. He waved England over and took his tea, returning to his book. But after a moment he looked up.

"I 'ave a bit of a problem with putting away books. Could you sort those into fiction and non-fiction Angleterre?"

England nodded, and then began the task of sorting enormous piles of books. While he was still annoyed, the comforting weight of the books served to calm him down a bit, so much that he completely forgot about France. This suited France as it meant that he could sneak the occasional glance at England's ass without getting anything thrown at his head. The hours flew by and it was soon time for lunch. France got England to fetch some sandwiches from the fridge and a cup of tea for both of them, and they managed to have quite an enjoyable lunchtime. Later, England finished sorting the books. However, France had fallen asleep on the sofa so he guiltily flicked through a book on French cuisine (he stole recipes from other countries whenever he could as his food wasn't very interesting. Most of his meals were made to keep you going during the day, not to taste nice). Just when England was beginning to doze off as well, France blearily raised his head from the sofa.

"Angleterre?" He said sleepily.

"Yes, what is it, France?" replied England, the cookbook back in its rightful place. France yawned.

"I 'ave thought up a punishment!"

_Help _thought England.

France got up and walked over to the television.

"I will make you watch a sad, romantic film! I know you 'ate those."

England sighed. While he did hate that kind of film, he had been expecting something a lot worse. He sat on the couch next to France and looked over to the stupidly expensive television. The film was indeed both sad and romantic, containing themes of war, slavery and of course love. The two countries unconsciously leaned closer to each other as the film went on, and when the end credits scrolled up England felt unusually emotional. The film brought back memories...

But then France stood up and stretched noisily.

"Arthur, it is time for dinner. You can make eet because eet is always funny watching you cook."

England would have scowled, but he was too caught up on his own thoughts. He walked into the kitchen and began taking ingredients and utensils from the cupboards as if in a dream. He didn't notice France looking at him curiously from the doorway, but when he had assembled everything his mind snapped back to attention. He only knew how to make a few dishes other than fish and chips or scones, so he decided to make the easiest one, breakfast pie. It didn't really matter if he ruined it, he thought to himself, France was expecting him to burn it anyway. So, with this weight off his mind he started rolling out the pastry and oiling the frying pan. Breakfast pie was essentially fried bacon, fried potatoes and fried eggs cut up into cubes and baked in a pie dish with a pastry lid. By the time England was finished he had only set off the fire alarm twice and had a meal that was mostly intact. Ok, so there were a few black bits on the potatoes and the lid was a bit burnt on one side, but it was edible.

England carried the pie dish into the lounge with a slight air of triumph. He handed France a plate and some cutlery (which he took, giving England a calculating look). France ate in silence, with England watching him intently to see his reaction. When France finished he looked up and said;

"Eet was surprisingly good, for you, but still burnt."

A look of triumph appeared on Arthur's face: he cleared the plate and the half-empty pie dish and took them into the kitchen. However, when he returned the look was gone, replaced by a sad one. France pulled England onto the seat next to him.

"Angleterre? Is something wrong? Usually you would have celebrated a compliment to your cooking for at least an hour."

France said, looking at him with mild concern. England sighed.

"It's nothing, Francis. I was just remembering... my time as an empire."

France was silent. England never usually talked about his empire except to boast, and he had stopped doing even that a few decades ago.

"I try not to think about it, but I... did terrible things. I was so full of myself and puffed up with power that I didn't look at what was happening to the countries I ruled over. I sometimes wonder why I don't go mad from all the deaths I've caused. I used to feel proud of my empire, but now I just feel guilty. I shouldn't have been surprised when everyone left me; I didn't exactly treat them well."

England turned away. He had never told anyone about this before, but the day had left him feeling oddly vulnerable. Then he felt France's arms wrap around his chest and pull him into a brief hug.

"Angleterre, eet is not that bad. We have all done awful things but we can't change that. We 'ave to try to be good now. Also, not everyone who was in your empire hates you. Look at zee commonwealth, they think of your empire almost fondly."

England gave a slight smile.

"It was jolly nice of them not to take offence. Obviously, they're allowed to come and go from the country as they please, as they used to be part of the empire." Then he got up abruptly.

"I think I'll go to bed now France, if that's ok."

France nodded.

"Of course."

France watched him walk up the stairs. _What a proud fool he is _France thought. _But I theenk I helped him._

-next morning

England awoke with a yawn and looked around sleepily before remembering where he was. He lay on his back, still not properly awake, and looked at the lampshade. It was decorated with frogs. After a few minutes he realised he should get up as France probably wanted breakfast in bed, the git. He pulled himself out of bed and quickly got changed into an outfit from his bag; a rather formal outfit of green shirt, black tie and black trousers. Then he wandered down into the kitchen. On the counter were a recipe and a note from France which essentially said 'make my breakfast quickly'. England frowned and turned to the recipe on the counter.

"Croissants." England groaned.

Despite how much he hated cooking French pastry, he set to work. However, an hour later he had had to disconnect the smoke alarm, open a window and when they came out of the oven they were burnt to ash. England sat down and rubbed his face with his hands. Stupid little pastry things. What good were they anyway, they wouldn't fill you up. After a few minutes of sitting and feeling miserable, he realised that there was some bacon left over from the night before as well as some bread rolls. He fried the bacon, buttered the roll and took the bacon butty upstairs.

England peered quietly into France's room. It was decorated with red and white rose patterns with matching bed covers. England made a face and walked over to France's bedside table. France's head was just poking above the covers and he was gently snoring. England started poking him.

"Get up, you bloody git, I've got your breakfast."

France yawned and sat up sleepily.

"It's not those stupid croissant things, I burnt them."

France laughed and picked up the bacon sandwich. England had started to walk away when France called,

"Could you get me a dreenk of milk?"

"Fine."

When England returned with an ice cold glass of milk, France had finished his breakfast and was reading one of those rubbishy romance novels. England set down the glass and waited till France had finished drinking.

**I'll probably upload every other day until this is finished. Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow! So many reviews, :3 I love you guys.**

**I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers**

England irritably tapped his foot as he waited for France to finish drinking. As England bent down to retrieve the glass, France said,

"Angleterre."

England looked up and France leant forward and gently kissed him. England straightened up so fast he hit his head on the bedside lamp. He looked at France in embarrassment and confusion. France winked at him.

"Zat was for burning the croissants."

England stood in the kitchen a few minutes later, rubbing his sore head. By now his embarrassment had turned into anger. How dare France kiss him! It was an invasion of privacy, and England usually held that you didn't kiss people unless you meant it. He then attempted to wash up but ended up breaking several plates.

Upstairs, France lay back in his bed and smirked. He had managed to steal a kiss from England. And he was still alive. He yawned and stretched. He had plenty for England to do today.

Over the next few days, France gave England an inventively large selection of jobs. England washed windows, cut down a plum tree, weeded France's extensive garden and dusted the whole house on just the first day. Finally, after France called England over for what seemed like the fiftieth time, England snapped.

"What can you possibly want NOW?!" He yelled his face an inch from France's.

"I have been worked off my feet for three days! I've barely had a wink of sleep, and you still manage to think of more jobs! What on earth could you have for me to do now?!"

France just smiled at this outburst.

"What can you do to shut me up?"

As England stared at France's deep blue eyes, he felt the sudden urge to kiss the perfect face in front of him. So without thinking, he did.

France was surprised to say the least. Surprised but pleased. Just as he was starting to relax, England seemed to come to his senses. He broke the kiss and waved his arms frantically.

"This-this doesn't mean anything frog!" He backed away as France stood up and walked towards him.

"I was just... I- I was-"

England realised he had backed himself up against a wall. He tried to shrink backwards as France came closer. France had been annoyed that England had broken the kiss so he advanced on the trapped country until he was a hairs breadth away from him. Then he grabbed England's tie and pulling him into another kiss. At first England tried to pull away, but to France's happiness he soon relaxed. France opened his lips slightly and pushed his tongue out to push against England's lips. England obediently opened his mouth and France's tongue immediately began to explore it. England's tongue was beaten after a swift struggle for domination, and lay at the bottom of his mouth. Eventually the two countries had to come up for air. France, however, was greeted with a very welcome sight. England was leaning heavily against the wall, panting, his clothes and hair slightly mussed up, his green eyes bright and his cheeks red. For once, England looked very vulnerable.

_Unf_. thought France.

England roughly pushed France out of the way and almost ran out of the room. Anything to escape France's almost predatory gaze.

England turned down a corridor and leant against the wall, letting out a deep breath. How was he going to manage the rest of the week if he couldn't even keep his own emotions in check? It wasn't as if France would leave him alone after that little encounter. England took another deep breath. *Don't think about France. Not his handsome face. Not the way he kissed you. Not how you secretly enjoyed the way he looked at you...*

England groaned. This wasn't getting him anywhere. Maybe he should have a shower. Yes, a nice, long, cold shower would be perfect.

A few minutes later he was standing in the shower of the largest bathroom. As the ice cold water pounded on his forehead he began to relax. He manage this. He had a reputation to uphold, after all, and he couldn't let the blasted Frenchman win. He walked out feeling refreshed. He picked up his clothes, wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door to see France standing outside.

He was completely naked.

As England took in this sight, he felt the blood rush to his face. He hurriedly left the room, all the effects of the shower gone. As he left he heard France having a shower of his own.

**I know this chapter was kind of short, but I felt like it was a good place to break. Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**The entire first page of my hotmail inbox is full of emails from . Thank you!**

**I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers**

The next morning, France woke to England's voice.

"Breakfast."

By the time France opened his eyes, England had left.

France quietly ate his breakfast. When he was finished he called for England, who refused to answer. France harrumphed grumpily and decided to go back to sleep. When he awoke later his breakfast things had been cleared away. He smiled. If England had been reduced to such childish behaviour already, then his plan was working.

Meanwhile, England was hiding. He knew it was petty, and it showed that France was getting to him **but he didn't care as long as he didn't have to deal with that stupid frog**. He had discovered a small room where France kept his spare bedding and cushions so had happily snuggled up in a nest made of blankets and pillows. He also had a few books and snacks that he had scrounged. He propped mattresses around the nest so he would be hidden if France decided to come in, turned the lamp on and settled down to read.

France was starting to get annoyed. He had searched everywhere for England, and hadn't found him. Eventually he decided to camp out on the sofa where he could watch the kitchen. England would get hungry at some point, and then France would pounce. He spent the time thinking how he would punish England for hiding from him.

_I could make him wear a stupid outfit_ he thought _or make him sleep in my room._ "Ohonhonhon!" He said aloud. However, the hours ticked by and England didn't appear. Finally, France admitted defeat and went to bed.

England yawned and stretched before placing the finished book next to him. He cautiously peeked out of the door for any sign of France, but seeing nothing he crept out. He swiftly retrieved a few books before hurrying back to his den. Once he was hidden again, he laughed. All this silly hiding reminded him of his childhood. It was getting late so he decided to wait till France was in bed before he went to get some more food. Eventually, France did go to bed, and England successfully grabbed food for his dinner.

The next day, France had finally got bored of thinking up punishments. He decided to prowl around the house again to find England.

"Coming, ready or not, Angleterre." He sang.

England had spent a happy morning eating and reading. Later, however, England glanced down at his watch. He was dismayed to find how late it was - he had missed lunch and was quite hungry. He could stay there and read to take his mind off the hunger or risk creeping downstairs for some food. Eventually he chose the latter option. He had always liked pretending to be a spy when he was younger, sneaking around the house and hiding in the shadows from other people (though his giggling often gave him away). He listened and looked as he crept along the landings and through the bedrooms, but neither saw nor heard anything. He knew he needed to address the emotions he had been ignoring but this was pushed to the back of his mind by the childish glee of sneaking and hiding. He carefully made his way to the back stairs and crept down them, resisting the urge to laugh. Finally, he reached the kitchen. France didn't have any junk food, so he grabbed a chocolate mousse and some bread rolls. Then he spotted the bottle of red wine on the table. A glass was beside it. England hesitantly reached for it.

"I suppose one glass couldn't hurt..."

France climbed the main stairs as quietly as he could. He had checked downstairs but hadn't found England anywhere. His house had rather a lot of rooms, which was making it hard for him to find the other country. However he didn't really mind the stupid search. This attitude was probably due to the couple of glasses of wine he had had with his lunch.

England glanced at the clock. He felt his stomach lurch as he realized that he had been drinking for half an hour, in a place that France might see him. He quickly gathered up the food and hurried upstairs, uncomfortably aware that he was now slightly tipsy.

France suddenly stopped as he heard something downstairs. England must have crept down the back staircase! He quickly made his way to aforementioned staircase and hid in the room opposite. Peeking through the keyhole, he settled down to wait.

He didn't sit there long before England came hurrying up the stairs, carrying the food.

'_ow dare he!_ Thought France. _I wanted to eat zat!_

England moved down the corridor, unaware that France was now following him.

England breathed a sigh of relief when he reached his den again. He clambered in to his nest and placed the items he had scavenged on a lopsided bedside table. He lay on his back and stretched. Then he opened his eyes. He was confronted by the sight of a triumphant France leaping over the mattresses, straight at him.

'Oh bugger...'

**Only two or three chapters left, but after the success this fanfic has been I'll probably upload some of my other FrUk fanfiction.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Second to last chapter! Thanks again for all the support, you guys.**

**I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers**

The impact knocked the wind out of both countries. France, however, recovered first. He sat on England's stomach with his legs either side, trapping the country in place. England was still panting heavily.

"Stupid... wine... bastard... how did... you... find me?"

France chuckled.

"You were making a lot of noise. It was easy."

England frowned

"I knew I shouldn't have had that wine..."

France gasped in mock horror.

"You drank my wine AND stole the snack I was saving?"

France leaned close to England's ear and whispered,

"Naughty Angleterre."

England tried to push the other country away but France grabbed his wrists. England growled and twisted around in an attempt to get free.

"Go away France. I don't want to see you!"

France smiled.

"Yes you do. You should know by now that you can't lie to me, I know you too well."

England growled again. France was right, and that made him REALLY angry. He redoubled his efforts, surprising France and wriggling a hand free. He made good use of this hand, promptly planting it on France's perfect face. This childish scuffle proceeded for several minutes until finally France had managed to pin England's wrists down and the trapped country had had to have a rest. France smirked down at England's furious face.

"It seems that Sir France 'as triumphed yet again." He continued to smirk in an infuriating way.

"What do I win this time?"

He ran his eyes over England's face.

England opened his mouth to tell him exactly what he could have (a punch in the mouth) but France swooped forward and trapped England's lips under his own. At first, the country under him kept struggling, but England's attempts to escape soon became feeble and then non-existent as he melted into the kiss. The world drained away and it was just France, kissing him. They broke apart, panting lightly and staring at each other. England blushed.

"You stupid frog. I... love you. And I hate the fact I love you! I can't stop thinking about your bloody face! I hate it!"

England's sudden anger made France fall backwards in surprise.

"I hate that it makes me feel weak, and it pisses me off that you have this power over me! I wouldn't mind, but I have no doubt that you only want me to sleep with you, and you don't even care! I've seen you break so many hearts, I won't give you mine. So get your hands off me, you stupid wine bastard!"

He sprang up as he finished his rant and ran out of the room before France could stop him.

France stared at the empty doorway in disbelief, a multitude of feelings welling up inside him. He had been essentially trying to seduce England for the last few days, but only because the other country hadn't responded to his other methods. And now he knew England really did love him but thought that he was only interested in sex. But France swept all of this to one side. He had to find England and tell him how he felt before it was too late! He jumped up. He was the country of love, and he would fix this no matter what he had to do!

England threw open the door of his room and began packing angrily. Just this once, he would have to break his gentlemen's promise.

France heard a noise in the hall and arrived to see England reaching for the door handle. He desperately threw himself in the way.

"Non, Angleterre, do not leave!"

England stared angrily at him.

"Get out of my way!"

"But I-"

"No!"

"You have to list-"

"Move!"

"I have to-"

"Bugger off!"

"You must-"

"I am not going to listen to a word you say! I'm going to leave and you can't stop me!"

France sighed.

"I didn't want to do this... but I am going to use your great weakness against you!"

He pulled out from behind his back... a bottle of wine.

England laughed derisively.

"That won't do you any good; I'm not exactly going to just sit down and drink it, am I?"

France frowned.

"I know. So please forgive me, Angleterre."

The last thing England remembered was the sight of France swinging the wine bottle towards his head.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here it is! The final chapter. I hope this ties everything up, and I may consider doing another story in this universe. Enjoy! :3**

**I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

England woke up slowly. He was tied to a chair, but it wasn't the first time he had woken up like this. However, this chair was a lot softer and more comfortable than the usual kind. He gave his head a shake. His memory was fuzzy and his vision slightly blurred, as it usually was when he woke from unconsciousness. He snorted. He had been knocked out so many times in the past, it was a miracle he didn't have brain damage.

Being a former spy, he had had a lot of experience with this sort of thing, and he always kept small knives around his person so he could escape quickly. If he could just reach the one in his tie...

Suddenly he heard a noise. His head snapped up and the world swam into focus. In front of him he saw France sitting on the couch, looking at him with a concerned expression on his face.

"Angleterre?"

England just groaned.

"Are you all right? Did I hit you too hard? Do you need-"

"I'm FINE, no thanks to you."England growled, his memory returning.

France winced.

"I am sorry mon cher, but-"

"I'm still not going to listen, you know."

"Angleterre!"

"I'm pretty sure keeping me here against my will is illegal in some way."

"England!"

"I told you, I don't want- oh what is it?"

"Please, just let me speak!"

England looked at France. He seemed sincere.

"Fine. I'll give you ten minutes to say what you need to say, and no matter what my reaction, you will untie me when the time is up. Deal?"

France thought about it.

"20 minutes."

"15."

"Deal."

"Deal. Now go and get a timer, I can't see a clock from here."

France fetched a clock and set it to the right time. Then he turned to England.

"I know I 'ave not behaved in the most sensible way zis week. I was delighted that I 'ad all this time with you to finally tell you how I felt. But first I wanted to know if you would return my feelings. So I kissed you, and when you kissed me back I was ecstatic! But I see now zat I was too forward. I confused and upset you, and I am deeply sorry for zat. I do love you, with all my heart, and it was my impatience and clumsy actions that led to zis misunderstanding. Please forgive me, and stay even when the time is up. I could not bear to lose you, mon amour."

England looked into France's eyes, and believed him. His mouth softened into a smile.

"I'll stay, you lovable git."

They sat there, looking at each other for a long while before the ringing of the timer broke the spell. England smiled sheepishly. "Ah, could you untie me now."

"Of course." France said hurriedly.

When England was free, he stretched. Then he turned around and punched France in the face.

"That was for knocking me out with a wine bottle!"

France got up and chuckled.

"I suppose I deserved zat, mon amour."

England blushed.

"Stop calling me pet names, you git! It makes me embarrassed."

France winked.

"Zat is why I do it."

England sat down on the sofa and turned away huffily. France sat down next to him and wrapped his arms around the grumpy country.

"Oh, do not sulk, Angleterre."

When England didn't turn his head, France started nuzzling the other country's neck. When England stubbornly refused to respond, France gave an exaggerated sigh.

"You are still angry about being tied to a chair, non?"

England still didn't say anything. France moved his head to England's neck. He started kissing it gently.

"Angleterre, look at me."

England turned his head crossly.

"What- mmph!"

As soon as he turned, France captured the other country's lips with his own. England inwardly groaned. That was the second time he had fallen for that particular trick, but he found he didn't mind a bit. When they broke apart, they gazed at each other for a few moments. France was the first to break the silence.

"So, who should we tell? About our amour, I mean."

"Nobody." England said firmly. France pouted.

"Not even Antonio and Gilbert?"

England shook his head violently.

"Especially not them! They'll tell Al- I mean, the rest of the countries!"

France smirked.

"Oh, so that's what you are worried about. Angleterre, if he teases you I weel help you beat him up!"

England scowled.

"Pish! Like even two of us would do him that much damage. No, I would really rather we didn't tell anyone Francis."

France heaved a melodramatic sigh.

"I suppose I could do zat."

The two countries woke up early the next day. Their last day was spent reminiscing about past battles, complaining about countries that annoyed them, and kissing. After an enjoyable day, they settled down to watch a film together. It was England's turn to choose so they watched a fantasy while snuggling on the sofa. After the film finished they fell asleep on each other.

It didn't matter what Monday would bring. They would finally have each other.


End file.
